Destination Bath – Sunday 16 February
They decided to take me to the resort town. But first we had to wait for Marty, who had online classes at the Bulgarian school. Someone had lied to the poor child that his aunt, since she was a teacher, would write his homework. When I flatly refused, he looked at me like that – if he could, he would have shot me with his eyes. While his mother was doing the housework, I kept him company and encouraged him. According to Bulgarian educational standards, he was in 1st grade and had to write a few pages in handwritten letters. I allowed him to take a few breaks, because the dear was snorting with boredom like a steam locomotive. With a lot of effort and a few tears, the homework was written beautifully and sent to the lady. The lesson followed, with the cameras on, of course. I stood out of the camera's reach and most impudently suggested it to him several times. There is nothing more beautiful than a satisfied child's smile, mixed with a sly look that said "we won't mention this to mom."
We loaded up the car and set off. Stephanie didn't want to come with us – the girl had more pleasant things to do. It wasn't cold, but there was an annoying wind blowing and it created a feeling of unpleasant chill. We found a closed paid parking lot that wound like a spiral… but finding a free space was more difficult. We set off along the streets of the resort town. Even though it was February, there were quite a few tourists. Bath – one of the most beautiful and historically significant cities in southwest England. The city is only about 20 minutes by train from Bristol, Famous for its mineral springs – the only naturally hot ones in the whole of Britain. Founded by the Romans as Aquae Sulis in the 1st century AD – because of the natural hot mineral springs. In the 17th–18th centuries the city became an elite resort for the English aristocracy. Bath reached its golden age in the late 1700s. The air smelled of limestone and tea. The stone facades glowed with a soft, coppery hue – they called it “Bath Stone”.
We headed to the Abbey. The streets were full of people. We also came across a street musician. I wanted to leave him something, he played very well and created a great atmosphere, he even danced… but I didn’t have any change. It turned out that you can also leave a tip on the street with a card… a modern thing. We arrived at The Roman Baths or the Roman Baths. A historic spa complex with real hot springs, a Roman pool, a temple, and a museum. One of the best preserved complexes from the Roman era in Europe. You can't bathe in them, but you can visit the modern Thermae Bath Spa nearby, where you bathe in real hot spring water. We continued on and before us it shone in all its grandeur Bath Abbey – a Gothic cathedral with an impressive facade and interior. It is famous for the “angels climbing the ladder to heaven” – a stone carving from 1499. You can climb the tower for a view of the city. This is the last large church building built in England before the Reformation. I really wanted to go inside, but the huge queue of people refused me. A little girl was just getting ready to sing in the square. I talked to the mother, who was singing in front of so many strangers for the first time and it was obvious that she was nervous. But when she sang, she seemed to become a different person. The child was completely immersed in some other world, and her English voice caressed the ears of passers-by.
We sat down at a nearby establishment because our stomachs were growling. My hosts wanted to take me to a typical English breakfast in a pub, but it was late, almost lunchtime. The establishment was full. They seated us at a neat, cozy table. I decided that I would have brunch – something between breakfast and lunch. Poached eggs with salmon and some sauce. It was delicious. My brother ordered the typical English tea with a jug of milk. And of course we all drank father's water. And my nephew was already asking when we were leaving… my dear, he was dying of boredom without knowing how you were. We got to dessert. I chose some truffles. What was my disappointment when they served me 3 balls resembling pigeon acacias on a tiny plate. But, I firmly stood by my choice and decided that I would not eat any other sweet. They were actually delicious.
We paid the bill and went out to the square in front of the Abbey. And what should I see – English police officers. I immediately got excited to take a picture with them. I explained to them that in every country I take one with the local law enforcement agencies and I already have one from Italy, Romania and Turkey. They grinned and started arguing about who was more handsome, so that they could take a picture with me. After the police photo shoot, we decided to take a walk around the shops, I wanted to buy some souvenirs… junk, as my husband calls them. The royal family didn’t particularly appeal to me and I focused on the typical English symbols: a phone booth-pencil case, a sharpener-mailbox, a few magnets with views of the kingdom, key chains of a double-decker bus and the royal crown… in another shop there were wonderful little soaps with an olive scent, from there I also got beautiful bags with small chocolates in the shape of coins.
The weather turned cold, and my sister-in-law had left without a jacket. We jumped in the car and headed back to Bristol. And there, of course, we couldn't help but pass by Mitaka - the owner of the Bulgarian store. There were other shops in the city where you could find Balkan goods, but they were mixed: Bulgarian, Romanian, Greek. They were stocked from a large warehouse in London. At Mitaka's, everything was ours. A small shop, like a grocery store, with delicious homemade cakes and eclairs. The shop carried the typical spirit of a Bulgarian neighborhood community – handfuls of acquaintances, smiles, homemade products and sharing. Mitko behind the cash register greeted everyone who came with a wide, warm smile. I was left with the feeling that this was more than a shop – it was a small connection to the homeland, a meeting point, a comfort for newcomers. We filled our bags and headed home. I was carrying a selfie stick with me, which I never used because it didn't make a good connection with my phone's Bluetooth. For 5 leva from Temu, that's it. Martin, however, fell in love with this "miracle of technology" and asked me to buy it for him when I got back to Bulgaria. Sweetheart. "Do you really want me to give you this one?" I ask slyly. His childish eyes lit up, as if I had taken him to Disneyland. What does a child need... And he was so happy with his new acquisition that before we got home he managed to break it... luckily for him, it was fixable.
We parked the car in front of the garage and greeted the neighbors who were just coming out. I immersed myself in the domestic bustle – unloading the groceries, what to cook, fooling around with Malcho… I went out into the backyard. My neighbor Julie was pretending to be a gardener and was cutting down the bushes with a swing, which to some extent served to hide the view of my brother's yard. The otherwise smiling and kind woman exposed the fence quite a bit. And it's not nice to be stretched out in your yard and have someone stare at you while passing by. My brother had to think about how to cover his personal space.
It was a nice, cozy family evening. And since it was almost time to go home, someone had to pull me out of this bliss. I had misplaced my phone somewhere and it took me a few minutes to find it and yell at the brat who was interrupting my cocktail bliss. My son. With the news that because of his own stupidity, four hundred kronor had been deducted from his bank account. It both made me angry and made me laugh. When I found out what a huge mistake he had made, I first yelled at him, then we laughed at him… and we started thinking about where to file a complaint, so that he could possibly get his money back. He complained to the police and the bank, but he drank a cold water with a lot of ice for the money. It happens to even the smartest people sometimes.
© 2025 Iliana Dechkova